Secrets
by ThePerksOfReadingBooks
Summary: Katniss and Peeta's daughter is sick of secrets. If her parents won't tell her them, then she'll have to find them out for herself...
1. Chapter 1

I glance down at picture in front of me. A girl, not much older than me stares back at me with warm eyes and a polite smile. Her hair falls in locks next to her face, it's blonde and beautiful, the kind of blonde I wish my hair was. I've never seen her before, this girl is a stranger to me, but I find it stranger that her photograph is in my house, tucked away in the corner of the bookshelf. It fell out as I chose a book to read. Perhaps it is the daughter of the previous owner of the house. Although it occurs to me that the photo should have been disposed of when we moved in. I was even aware that this house had been used before us, it felt new to me but maybe that's because I'm not old enough to feel old yet. Everything in this world is almost new to me, and I am glad of the many years left on this earth I have left to explore all these new possibilities.  
This girl herself should only be around my parent's age. Her clothes aren't from that long ago, and the photograph doesn't look old as much as battered from being handled.  
My father takes lots of photos of me, and paints me too, along with mum and my younger brother. It's nice, almost as if to him every memory is precious enough to capture. He takes his camera nearly everywhere with him, taking pictures at every opportunity. This girl looks as though his photo was taken for a purpose, as a picture for an official document, or a portrait. Perhaps mum will know who she is.  
I find her in the kitchen, she's chopping up fruit for something and she smiles nicely as I walk in, photo in hand.  
"Hello. What are you doing in here? I thought you went to read?" She asks me. My mother's face is gentle in comparison to the darkness of the fountain of hair from her head that flows far past her shoulders. Her eyes are grey but deep, standing out against the paleness of her skin. My mother is still young but her face looks wise and she always seems to be looking secretive, but that's probably just her personality showing. I hold up the photo.  
"I went to get a book and I found this. What is it?" I asked, holding up the paper. She snatched it out my hand and took it away from me. Her face loses any remain colour it held as her expression become one of alarm.  
"It's nothing!" She snaps "I don't know why you felt you needed to move it, but you shouldn't have. It has nothing to do with you; it's just a silly of picture of an old friend of mine. Silly old me, I'm just sentimental." I nod. She takes her photo and I swear for a second her expression changes to one of sadness, an expression I'd seen many times in my life but never quite like this before. I feel this would be the exact expression of a phrase I hear a lot at school 'A broken heart'.  
"I'd go ahead and read honey, dinner won't be ready for a little while." Mum smiles again, removing her eyes from the picture.  
"Okay. Is that one of the old friends that came to visit you the other day?" A few days, dad took us out of the house so mum could be visited by some friends from her past we'd been told. I didn't really think much about it until now.  
"No. This friend of mine, she…she's gone now. I won't see her again for a little while." Mum voice pierced through me, its sadness made me want to cry. I'm sure I've never seen mum in this much pain before, it's hard.  
"I'm sorry mum."  
"It's fine. You'll never be as sorry as I am."  
"Why mum?"  
"You're too young to understand. You may be mature for your age, but I don't want you knowing… you can't understand the things your father and I went through, or the things we had to do till you're a bit older, okay? As this age…well. I know how important being a child is, you should appreciate it more, and don't try to grow up too fast."  
"Okay mum." And I go to walk out of the doorway to go and read.  
"I love you." She calls out after me.  
"I love you too mum." I just don't love her secrets. When you're a little older… When you're a little older. I am a little older! I am not a child and I deserve to know what her past is. She refuses to tell me how she met dad, or what her childhood was like, or district 12 was like before the bomb hit it. I know nothing of her or dads past, or auntie and uncles. It's hard for me to know how important my family is when I don't know anything about them. I feel like a stranger to them sometimes, and they feel like strangers to me too. I'm tired of being told I'm too young or I can't know yet. I want to know and I need to know if I'm ever going to feel a part of this family. No more secrets, if they won't tell me, I will find them out.

Hi. I know that I've already written this story out, but I re read it after being absent from writing this fanfic for a long time and I didn't like it, and have decided to improve it but I wanted followers and alerts to be able to see the new story so I've deleted all the chapters and just replaced chapter 1. It will be the same kind of story line, it wasn't finished before so the ending is still a mystery but I hope you enjoy the new story if you liked the last one, and to anyone new reading this, it won't matter if you haven't read it before. I hope all of you enjoyed it, please review and follow etc; I will try to finish the story by the end of the month at the latest. So thanks for reading, DFTBA (Don't forget to be awesome )


	2. Chapter 2

Investigation is not my strong point. I am not yet old enough to have the skills to navigate most technology, meaning I can't yet figure old how to use our complex computer without adult supervision. I click on one wrong thing and I could be in serious trouble. My teachers say I am mature for my age, but they refuse to treat me any differently to how they treat the other children as they fear they may be accused of favouritism or being bias. I however find this annoying as I have plenty of time to expand my thoughts by reading novels, or extend my vocabulary by working yet I lack the ability to do things that children only a few years older than me take for granted. Use of a computer is one of them.  
I suppose I could try to ask my father, but I don't want to bug him. He is amazing and I love him greatly, but I understand that he needs to concentrate to work. He runs the local bakery, and in his spare time he paints or spends time with us. When I was younger I believed he didn't sleep as he was all up and about at all hours. But then I suppose, so was mum.  
I don't think I can find the answer in a book. I wouldn't know where to begin looking, what I would search for. I highly doubt my parents would be in many books yet. Kat and Peeta EverLark. An unusual second name, but they are still young and I doubt history has documented them just yet.  
Perhaps the house holds the answer. I recall being told to stay out of the attic several times. Perhaps the answer to the unknown question is in there.

I really should have thought about this plan to discover family secrets.

Our house is quite big, but if Mum were to find something I think she'd hide it the attic. I know she wouldn't hide anything in mine or my brother's room, because it would be too easy for us to come across by accident. Though as I don't know what I'm looking for, I might have already seen it, just not realised. Maybe I should go up there and see if there is anything different.

But how do you look for something when you don't know what you're looking for?

I've never been up in the attic for long enough to look for anything, but occasionally I've been up there very briefly with mum or dad to get something we need down. They6 refuse to let me look around though. They always told me the floor would give way if I tried walking on it, and you had to balance very carefully on the beams. They told me I was too young to try it. The attic's quite creepy anyway. There's not much light, everything's covered in cobwebs and things creep when you walk.

When mum goes hunting she'll be out of the house for quite a while, normally a few hours. I've been hunting with my mum loads of times, and am pretty good with a bow and arrow now, and okay at making snares. I don't really like hunting that much though, the animals are so cute and fluffy and I always feel bad killing them. Plus mum says I have dad's feet and I can't be quiet. Whenever she says this, her and dad give each other this look and hold hands. It's kinda gross. But sweet. My parents aren't like other parents. They've been married for ages and ages, but they still act like teenagers in love. They're always holding hands or kissing and seemed to really love each other. I've never seem them fight and when they're around each other they seem really happy. It's nice because I know my parents aren't going to split up like other parents do. Our family's a good one, even if we are a bit small. It's just the 6 of us, me, my brother, dad, mum and uncle and auntie. We go and see them 1 night a week. Mum told me Uncle and Auntie aren't my real family, but my brother and I call them uncle and auntie because they feel like family and we love them.

I'm not really sure what's in the attic. It's quite big and just seems to have loads of boxes in it. But hopefully one of those boxes might tell me why my mums acting so weird. Dad draws all the time, and paints too. Our house is filled with pictures, painting, sketches and art work done by my dad, and a whole bunch that my brother and I did. He loves art and is amazing at everything, especially icing! I love his cakes there so amazing! He can make them into pretty much anything. For my birthday he made me a meadow cake, it was so beautiful. For mum's birthday he made her one shaped like a bow and arrow. Dad used to keep his cake stuff in the attic, but mum made room in the kitchen. So I should go up here and see what the space is home to now, shouldn't I? After all, I really do need to know what my parents are keeping from me.

Okay, second chapter edited. Not a lot better really. I hope you like it so far and please remember I don't own any characters from this story or any rights to the hunger games trilogy. Please follow, review etc., I'd love to hear the feedback, thanks. DFTBA.


	3. Chapter 3

The attic is covered in cobwebs and smells like damp, the smell brings back memories of the rare occasions I was ever permitted to venture up here. Boxes cover every piece of the floor and the darkness seeps over everything, shadows adjoining to create true darkness. I take my lamp and shine it around, my eyes adjusting to the new light source. I take a look at the first and nearest box to the entrance. My old clothes are scattered around in there, with many of my brothers joining them. My fathers lost forgotten paintings are pressed up against the wall, but don't aid the prevention of the breeze that chills my skin. Many are of my mum, some she's laughing, others she's looks serious and it's scary to see her looking so blank. The ones that interest me are the paintings with fire in them, in my mothers eyes, literally, or in the background. There's one with a black dress set in fire, with a girl with no face in it. Her hair is in a classic side braid, one that's been woven into my own hair many times. My fathers paintings are extraordinary, he's incredible at art. Some paintings also have a strange bird on them, that look slightly like jabber-jays, but they are slightly different. I've studied Jabber-jays, and the differences are subtle but noticeable.  
It's unusual to see something like this on a painting, especially one of dad's. I check the back of the canvas, and in my fathers familiar scribble I read

"To my beautiful Mockingjay. Love Peeta."

That's sweet I suppose. MockingJay? I've heard of those, but I can't for the life of me remember where from.

"HELLO? IS ANYONE HOME?" I hear my fathers voice ring through the house as he enters the front door. I turn the lamp off, leaving it there as it's harder to get down the ladder with it. I dart down the wooden steps and push them up into the attic. I walk down the stairs, brushing off the dust my clothes have collected. I didn't expect him home so soon, or I would have tried going up there at a different time.

"Hi Dad, good day?" I smile.  
"Yes thanks honey, is your mum home?"  
"Yes, in the kitchen. Dad, can I ask you a question...for school?" I hesitate.  
"Okay."  
"What's a MockingJay?" His face drops, a frown gathering at the top of his head.  
"A MockingJay? Oh. They were used in war time. As a messenger, they could imitate sounds. Very beautiful. They... became extinct. Well...killed actually. After the second war, people didn't want them around as a reminder of the war. And they saw it as a message that if MockingJay's were killed, they were a symbol of wars, so it was the end of wars. Why did you need that for school?"  
"Um.. I can't use the computer, and I couldn't find it in a book, so I thought I'd ask you. Do they mean anything to you? Have you ever seen one?"  
"Well, when I was younger I saw them. But I'll tell you a secret, come here." He smiles at me and gestures for me to come closer. I lean in and he whispers in my ear. "I saw the last one in existence."  
"Really? Why? When? Did it die?"  
"No, it didn't die. It was just no longer a MockingJay any more. No longer did it symbol war, so there was no MockingJay left. Just a beautiful song bird."  
"Wow."  
"Sweet, I suggest if you really want to know about MockingJay's, pick up a war history book. Yeah?" And he winks quickly at me, then walks into the kitchen. He knows I hate history, I hardly own any history books. Maybe someone else will be able to give them to me. Maybe Auntie and Uncle.


	4. Chapter 4

I knock on Pip's door and wait for her to answer. I've got the pin in my hand and I really want her to help me make sense of this whole thing.

Pip's my best friend. She's smart and really funny and I love her to pieces. We go to school together. She loves language and history, but I think language is boring and learning about the Hunger games is really boring. It just doesn't sound real and it's really sad. I know mum and dad were alive when it happened but they don't talk about it at all. At school I prefer art and food. Mum says I've got my dad's talents. I'm good at art and dad has been teaching me for ages how to cook. I look more like my mum though. My hairs long and dark like hers but my eyes are blue like dads. My little brothers got blonde hair and grey eyes though. He's only 4 at the moment and as cute as a button. Pip loves him.

She opens the door and gives me a huge grin and pulls me into a big hug.

"Hey!" she pulls me up into her bedroom and I sit on her bed

"Hi Pip. You ok?" I reply. I love Pip's room; it's small but filled with loads at stuff all over her room. Photos of me and her are everywhere, including one's with both our families and some of our friends. There are also loads of my pictures around everywhere. I draw her loads of stuff and paintings too. She puts them all up on her walls. I love it.

"I'm good." She smiles and sits down next to me. I turn to her and hold out my hand and show her the badge. She takes it and examines it.

"What is it?" she asks me. I explain to her all about mum and her old friends, then about the attic and box.

"Wow! That's weird. What do you think it is?" she asks.

"I don't know." I admit.

"Why don't you ask her?" Pip suggests. "Or your dad?"

"I've tried, they won't talk" I say

"What about your uncle and auntie?"

Uncle and Auntie! It's perfect! They'll know all about my parents past even if there not my real auntie and uncle.

"That's brilliant! Thanks Pip, I'll ask them now!"

"Great!" she gives me a big hug and I run out the door, with the pin in my hand. 7

Maybe my answers are closer than I thought.


End file.
